Will of the Wisps
by Haru Eclipse
Summary: The legends tell of malevolent creatures that lead many travelers to their fates, usually to their deaths. But will the Will-o-Wisps lead Maeve, a Pict of Scotland, to her death? Or will they lead her to a greater destiny, sending her to Middle Earth and into the care of a wizard and intertwining her destiny with a company of Dwarves and a Hobbit?
1. Prologue

**AN: This is a product of watching Brave and the Hobbit way to many times! I would like to say thank you to **_Reincarnated Poet_**. She helped me clean this chapter up, making it presentable for everyone to read. During the story I will use things from the Celtic Mythology, so if there's anything that needs a little more information I will provide it at the end of the story. I hope you enjoy!**

**Also, Maeve is pronounced MAY-V and Naomh is pronounced NEEV (they're Scot-Irish/Celtic)**

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Will of the Wisps  


**Prologue**

839 A.D.

The sand was cold and wet between the little girl's toes as her feet sunk deep into the sand, the individual grains rough against her skin. She ran along it, her wild mess of hair whipping back behind her as the wind carried the smell of salt and earth over the beach. The waves crashed against her little legs, knocking her into the sand, where she rolled to her feet, screaming with shrill laughter as the gulls cried overhead. A few steps behind her, her older sister, Naomh, chased after her. "Come h're you lil' rabbit!"

"Ye can't catch me!" Maeve laughed as a wave crashed into her stubby legs again, washing her down the beach before she struggled to her feet again. She giggled and took off, the wind blowing her red mane behind her. Naomh laughed, head shaking and sending beaded braids wiping against her cheeks. She took short steps through the foaming ocean, exaggerating with her arms as she jogged down the coast. Her sister's peals of laughter echoed across the shoreline, joining the symphony of the ocean.

Looming ahead of the sisters were the mighty cliffs that bracketed the shoreline, the jagged edges cutting into the ocean like a ship against the harsh waves. The elements had worn them down, sending slabs of the stone into the water below, where masts and hulls splintered into nothingness. The rocks protruded from the water like the open jaws of a mysterious sea monster that lurked in the shallow water. To foreigners, the riches the land possessed weren't worth the risk, but to the girls and their people, the danger was just a beacon, leading them home.

Gazing at the cliffs, they stole Naomh's attention from her sister. They gave her comfort despite the dangers of being near them. The sand disappeared too quickly into the ocean there. One moment the water would be at your knees and the next step could be your last, the ocean sucking you in and drowning you in minutes. And the tide's pull was worse there as well, carrying unwatched children out to sea. But despite the dangers, they were a welcomed sight to Naomh.

Letting out a content sigh, Naomh lowered her eyes to her sister. With a cold dread she realized that her sister got too far ahead of her. Pulse quickening, she watched Maeve run closer to the tidal pools that were known to hold dark creatures beneath its depths. Dark creatures that delighted in mortal suffering and drowning their victims, especially little children.

"Mae, wait up!" Naomh shouted as an icy hand gripped her heart. Muttering a short curse, she began to sprint, eliminating the growing distance between them. A few seconds passed and the older sister stumbled next to younger, panting as the salty air made the sting in her lungs even worse. With no time to catch her breath, she grabbed Maeve's arm and pulled her from the water. Her little sister struggled, digging her feet in the sand.

"What are ye doin'!" Maeve whined, pulling at the tight grip her sister had on her arm. Naomh hissed without looking back, her chest heaving as her lungs grabbed for air, "I'm savin' yer life! There'res creature's th're that'll kill ye in a blink!"

"Ye don' know that! They're jus' stories!" Maeve continued, but she gave up in her struggle. She knew that she couldn't escape her sister's grip. Naomh didn't speak at first, dragging her sister far from the water now. When the ocean was more than a yard away from them, she let go of her sister's arm and turned to her. Hands on her hips and a stern look that rivaled that of their mother's, she began to lecture the younger girl, but she stopped before she began and let out a sigh.

Maeve was only a child, and Naomh knew she didn't really mean any harm. She was that age once, exploring the world around them and testing every story and legend their father told them. Her face softened and she knelt down before she sister. Taking the girl's shoulders, Naomh held her attention and spoke kindly, "Th're are stories for a reason, Mae, they keep us safe."

"But I've n'ver seen one!" Maeve said, no longer protesting her sister's actions. Instead, curiosity brightened her light eyes. "Are the Kelpie ev'n real?" (*)

Naomh sighed, having asked the same question when she was younger. But now she knew the truth, that the world was a beautiful and dangerous place all at the same time. Smiling she answered with wisdom beyond her sister. "They're real. They've killed our people many times b'fore. That's why th're are stories, ta warn lil' children. Do ye understand?"

Seeing the sincerity in her sister's eyes all the protests died in Maeve's throat. Closing her mouth, she decided not to press anymore, choosing to believe Naomh for now. Nodding her head Maeve kicked at the sand and looked away, her gaze returning to the cliffs behind them. The heavy moment dissipated like the early morning fog and her enthusiasm returned. A grin broke across her freckled face as her eyes found Naomh's again.

"Let's climb it!" Maeve suggested, pointing her tiny finger toward the rough edge of the cliff. All darkness from the previous conversation was forgotten as she bounced around in the sand, her childish energy never seemed to wane after all her running around. Naomh smiled and chuckled. Taking another deep breath, she remembering the days when she shared her sister's vigor. Gazing up at the large rough side, she judged whether it would be climbable. The rock was still jagged despite the years of erosion from the wind and rain. Clumps of grass braved the fruitless conditions and sprung from various cracks on the side. A subtle path of protruding earth could be seen in the cliff's side, the rocky handholds big enough to grab and support weight. She knew for sure that she could make it, but as she looked upon the various sharp edges she felt differently about Maeve, who still hadn't processed the strength to carry herself so far.

Crouching down and offering her back, Naomh turned to her sister. "C'mon, get on."

"But why?" Maeve asked a whine beginning to form in her voice again, her fists balling at her sides. "I wanna do't myself!"

"Another day," Naomh laughed and urged her sister forward. "I promise."

Maeve pouted before she relented. She carefully scrambled onto her sister's back, wrapping her arms around Naomh's neck. Shifting under the added weight of the younger girl, Naomh held onto her tiny legs as she stood again and walked up to the cliff's side. Turning her head slightly, she looked at Maeve, "Ye ready?"

"Uh-huh!" Maeve nodded her head vehemently, her wild hair bouncing with the jerky motion. Naomh grinned as she let go of her sister's legs, which immediately wrapped around her waist, and began to climb the rocky surface, grabbing a hold of the rocks. "A'right h're we go!"

With deep calming breathes the sisters ascended from the sandy beach. Naomh was slow and careful as she felt her way up the side. Her hands tentatively reached for the next rock, testing it. When she was sure the rock was stable she did the same with her feet. She was cautious of any loose rocks that might cause them to fall to their deaths. She even used the clumps of grass to help pull them up.

Maeve clung to her sister in fear, but her curiosity and growing awe eventually allowed her to gaze at the world around her. The beach grew smaller. The white sands seemed to disappear into the ocean. Above them the sky turned from blue to pink as the sun slowly descended from its heavenly throne, leaching all the blue as it went. The wind grew slightly harsher, from a soft tugging whisper to a louder whistle. Maeve stared at it all with wide child-like eyes as her sister sweated and concentrated on the climb.

Blinking the sweat from her eyes, Naomh grabbed a hold of a chunk of grass. Pulling on the long blades, she lifted them up. The dirt around the pant crumbled and fell away. Quickly, she grabbed onto rock above it before the plant dropped from the side. Biting her lip, Naomh pushed forward, knowing that she shouldn't linger. Her fur stitched boots slid against the earth as she continued, making the climb that more difficult.

Finally, when the sun sunk half way into the ocean, Naomh struggled in pulling them up from the ledge. Her tattooed arms burned and trembled as she put them under the great stress, feeling too tired and worn to finish the job. But she persisted, determined to get on the flat landing. With a forceful grunt, which turned into a pained cry, she finally stood on the cliff top with Maeve still clinging to her back. Gasping softly, Maeve let go and dropped from her sister's back, running through the high grass as her sister collapsed.

Naomh watched her sister run through the high grass, the strands coming up to her waist. She tried to regain her breathing; the lush greenery tickling her exposed skin, as she heaved in lungful's of salty air. Groaning as Maeve disappeared, Naomh tried to go after her, but her muscles tightened in her legs. Falling to her knees, Naomh watched her sister's head bobbing above the grass like a boat on the water. When her muscles relented in their aching complaints and her breath was quiet again, she stood.

Maeve rested at the end of the ledge, completely still as she gazed at the beautiful scene before her. The sun was mostly behind the water's edge now, its long fingers stretching across the darkening sky in a last vain attempt to hold onto its reign and stay in the world. The pinks and oranges glowed around the sun like a halo, while the royal blues and purples closed in around them. The sun's image reflected on the ocean's surface, wavering like a candle flame in the nighttime breeze. And just above, where the nightly darkness was creeping in, the stars blinked into sight, like fireflies in the summertime.

"Tis' beautiful ain't it?" Naomh whispered as she walked up beside her sister. Her expression was somber compared to the younger girl, whose face was full of awe and wonder. Maeve could only nod her head, the scene before her stealing all intelligent words from her tongue. Naomh smiled and placed a hand on her sister's shoulder, pulling the tiny body into her side. No matter how many times Maeve had seen the sun set over the water each time looked different and more beautiful than the last. She sighed and relaxed into her sister's side. For a few quiet moments they watched the day give way to night, content with the silence between them

The gulls gathered around the beach, settling down as they prepared for the night. Around them the crickets and the tree frogs of the forests began to sing in harmony, their chirps and croaks welcoming the moon and stars with their nightly symphony. Maeve stared at the last of the sun as it sank into the water, but something caught her eye. A handful of black dots sat in the orange sun. They were so small, so shapeless that they brought the young girl from her mystified stupor. "Nee, wha' are those?"

Maeve pointed to the horizon and Naomh looked hard. She couldn't see a thing, the dots being too small for the older girl's eyes to catch. Laughing she patted Maeve's back, "I don' see anythin', maybe tis' just yer imagination!" Then she squeezed Maeve's shoulder, getting her attention from the ocean. "But let's start headin' back, we don' want ta start worrin' Da, now do we?"

"No." Maeve said, disappointment mixing in her voice. Naomh smiled and offered her hand. Together they began to walk away from the cliff's edge and in the direction of their village.

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**(*) Kelpie are from Celtic Mythology, which the Picts were a sect of Celts, and they were considered monsters. The Kelpie were usually described as horses with kelp in their manes or sometimes they transformed into men with kelp for hair. Now these creatures were very hostile towards humans and often led children and women to their deaths by alluring them to follow them. They usually killed their victims by drowning them in nearby lakes or other bodies of water. They are also considered by some as a species of Faerie.**


	2. Chapter 1 Dragons From the Sea

Chapter 1 Dragons From the Water

"Maeve!" Her mother's voice, thick with her brogue, rang through the village, drowning out the women chattering as they met and parted, trading information and the necessities of life. Sheep cried out in distress as the sheep dogs herded them across the rolling hills. A horse nickered somewhere in the distance, enjoying the sweet summer air off of the ocean. At first, Maeve pretended not to hear her name being called through the village as she walked through the outskirts of the village, headed for the rough sands and warm waters of the ocean.

"I t'ought ye said ye could play?" A tall, dark haired boy of thirteen summers demanded, thrusting the point of his play-spear into the soft earth. A few boys dropped their own make-shift weapons in annoyance and fatigue.

"I jus' t'ought tha' she'd forget!" Maeve defended, holding her bow tightly to her chest. The young wood dug into her bony shoulder, and she winced against it.

Conall shook his head, sending his dark tresses about him. "Ye know better than I that yer mum would follow us till she caught ya!"

"That's why we need to go faster," Maeve insisted, standing her ground with crossed arms. Beside her Sorcha, her closest friend, shook her head. A smile formed on her face as she saw Maeve's stubbornness light, knowing that by the end of the day she would get into trouble for it. "So c'mon, before she catches us!"

Conall shook his head, telling the other children to stay. The scar across the tip of his lips quivered as he tried to suppress his grin. He was a few summers older than Maeve and their families had been close friends for generations. Ever since she could walk, Maeve had been following him around on his adventures and it was one of those adventures that gave him his first scar. He had gotten it one summer afternoon while they were playing in the river. Maeve had slipped and was carried away by the currents, her body not yet strong enough to fight against him. The river was shallow, but deep enough to drown in, so without thinking he dove in after her. When he landed in the water the rocky bed cut into his lips and face, and his head collided with a large stone. But he kept moving forward until he pulled her out, then he collapsed. Ever since the incident they had been like siblings, and as the older brother he thought he was he tried to protect her. "No, ye go bac' to yer mum! We'll play wit' ya tomorrow."

The crashing waves of the sea called out to them in a whisper as the breeze shifted through the tall grass, creating its own waves. Maeve's eyes widened, her fire smelted by Conall's words. Behind them Maeve's mother's voice grew louder, the anger rivaling the force of a hurricane. "Maeve! Come h're _now_!"

Looking behind, Maeve could see her mother standing at the top of the hill. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips and a stern fiery expression occupied her weathered face. Her red hair was pinned back and a handful of strands came loose from the bun, framing her face and blowing in the wind. To Maeve and the rest of the children, she looked like a scorned witch ready to curse them all.

"Maeve, now!" Her mother yelled, a broad hand thrown out toward the ground next to her while the other firmly gripped her hip.

"G'on then, before ye get us both in trouble!" Conall said as he grabbed his spear from the moist dirt. Nodding to the others, he turned and started to the ocean without a backwards glance. Sorcha stayed with Maeve for a few seconds, her small hand holding Maeve's in comfort.

"A'right, fine!" Maeve yelled at them, her anger sparking the flames once more as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "I don' care! I don' care about yer stupid war games! I don' need ya!"

Sorcha's tiny lips turned downward as Maeve continued her rant, her light eyes full of sympathy. Squeezing her hand, Sorcha whispered, "Ye don' really mean tha',"

The gulls cried out overhead as they followed the other children to the sea, their cries shriller than normal. The air began to cool as the wind continued to blow. Maeve turned to the other girl, her eyes hot with short-tempered rage. "I _do_ mean it! They're a bunch of cowards, leavin' me behind,"

Sorcha sighed, her blonde hair blowing in the wind behind her. Born in the same spring time as Maeve, they spent many summers playing in the fields and on the beach. She knew how hot her friend's anger could get, but she also knew how quickly it would burn out. Patience was something that she had, not Maeve, and so she often handled her friend's fire and biting words. But this felt too far.

"They're not cowards," Sorcha said as she released her hand. Maeve was being selfish, and Sorcha decided she would let her stew, hopefully seeing that she was wrong. "Ye can join us tomorrow an' we can go to the beach again!"

"Yer leavin' me too?" Maeve asked, her voice full of hurt. The wood of her bow dug into her shoulder as her fists clenched.

"Aye, but I'll be comin' back." Sorcha nodded before she gave Maeve a hug. Behind them her mother called her name again. Maeve's frame was stiff and she didn't return the gesture. Instead she tore away from Sorcha and ran away toward the long grassy hill to her mother. After a few yards she slowed her pace. Turning back, she saw Sorcha was already running to catch up with the others.

Kicking a large tuff of grass, Maeve continued up with the beating sun on her exposed shoulders. Occasionally she looked back to watch her friends head toward the beach, the same beach her sister and her spent the afternoon at the day before. Not once did she meet her mother's eyes as the sounds of village life reached her ears. The roar of the waves grew more and more faint as she walked away, fading into the breeze.

When she reached her fuming mother, she stood in the spot her mother had pointed to. Silently, they watched as the children disappeared in the white sand. Maeve's anger began to die away as her stubbornness tried to fuel it. Shaking her head, Maeve turned away with her arms crossed.

Sighing, her mother's expression melted into one of tender love, the hard lines on her face easing a little. Taking her hand away from her wide hips, she offered it to her daughter. Maeve looked at the calloused appendage for a few moments before she took it. Silently they walked away and into the busy village.

Her mother let her daughter be, trying to ignore the dark mood that clouded around her. Campfire seasoned the air with different aromas of roasted meat. Dogs ran through the street as they chased after small screaming children.

In the distance, some of the village men and their sons worked in the fields, sweating under the late spring sun. Some tilled the earth, getting it ready for the next round of planting. Sons sewed seeds into the softened dirt. Others dug small hills in long rows, preparing the ground for the potato harvest.

Passing the village market, Maeve's mother smiled and waved to the other women of the village. Most of them were mothers themselves and were tied to the home. Older girls helped with the various chores as their mothers sat outside the single-room stone homes. They mended and sewed new clothing, or manipulated clay as they kept an eye on their smaller children.

Friendly voices called out to Maeve's mother as they went through the market. A large assortment of ware filled the stalls, many of which came from the neighboring villages. Rugs blew in the breeze as jewelry swayed around them. Animal skins hung beside the stalls of weaponry. Pottery stood in front of the vendors, and herbs and spices were being sold for very little. Maeve's mother didn't stop or spend her coin. Instead she greeted her friends and the friendly visitors as she dragged Maeve away from the weapon's stand.

Soon the houses began to thin as they left the heart of the village. The land around them turned into grain fields, even some hay fields for the livestock. The golden and green grass swayed in the breeze, creating a lulling affect. Here a few warriors worked with scythes or sharpened blades, beginning to cut this part of the harvest. In the distance, Maeve could see their home approaching. The grey stone contrasted against the heavy deep greenery just behind it.

Her father tilled the earth, leading an old ox by the horns as it dragged the large blade behind it. His back was bare and lightly tanned from the hours spent in the sun. His white scars were visible from so far away, highlighting the black and blue tattoo that dominated his back. The design was the biggest of all his markings, and also the one her wore the proudest. It was of a large bird, made of interlocking knots and lines. In its feet it held a spear, showing his father's status as a warrior. The bird was the tribe's symbol, the mark of her ancestors, which all her family bore but Maeve, because she was too young.

A little further away from their father, Maeve's brothers worked. Aed and Ailpein were twins that were born many summers before their sisters. Their bright orange hair made it easy to find them amongst the tall wheat. They swung their curved blades high into the air before slashing them through the plants. Broad grins stretched across their reddened faces as they appeared to be enjoying their chore too much, their voices carrying into their air as they sang shrewd songs.

Beside the house, Naomh was hanging their various laundry on the line, using the wind to dry them quickly. The oldest daughter turned to face them when they got closer, a knowing smile on her lips, "I see ye found her!"

"Aye, she was on `er way to the beach w'th the others," Her mother nodded and released Maeve's hand. Maeve scowled as she looked at her sister with crossed arms. Gazing down at the younger girl, her mother continued. "Now, put up ye bow an' get the yer needle work."

Maeve gave a slight pout but she did as she was told. Running to the door she heaved the heavy wood open before going inside. The thick stones that made up the house blocked out most of the heat from the late spring sun. Once inside she placed her small bow with the others bellow one of the small windows. Above her animal skins and blankets hung, waiting to be slept on when the sun went down, and various charms dangled into the room.

Going to the middle of the single room, where the cooking pit and pot were situated, and looked at the contents of the pot. The aroma that escaped from the opened situated, she looked at the contents inside. The aroma that escaped from the opened top was a mixture of sheep and potatoes, with something else lying underneath the stronger scent. Maeve pulled her face away and stuck out her tongue, the pungent smell offending her nose.

Quickly she placed the lid back on the pot and went around to the other side of the room. Under the smallest window of the room sat a rack with various fabrics hanging from it. Beside the fabric stood her mother's ceremonial dress that had been passed down for a few generations, and would be passed to Naomh when she married.

Maeve grabbed one of the larger pieces and the smallest one from the rack, taking them outside before she went back for a small box of thread and needles. When she had everything set up just outside the house, her mother and sister came up and joined her.

"Thank ya, my wee lil' lassie!" Her mother kissed the top of Maeve's head. Sitting down, she grabbed the larger piece of fabric and took the needle that was sticking from the surface. Pulling it out, she began to thread the needle through the fabric, dragging white thread along a black line. Naomh sat on the other side and took out another needle, working on the design there.

"I know ya wanted ta go w'th them today. An' I was goin' to let ya go too," Her mother admitted, causing the young girl to look back at her. "But I got one of those feelin's, an' I don' like it."

"What's the feelin'?" Maeve asked after a few short moments as the shouting from the fields died down. Her mother stopped her threading and locked eyes with her. "A storm's a comin', I can jus' feel it."

Maeve knew not to pursue the subject anymore and so she went back to her needle work, _'More like torture ta me!'_ She got a little further in the design before she tried pulling the needle through and stabbed her index finger hard, drawing blood. She let out a loud pained yelp before cursing the needle's existence, saying a few choice words she shouldn't have known.

"Mae, I didn' know ye knew such words!" Her sister snickered without looking up from her work. Their mother only shook her head, too tired to deal with her youngest child's vile tongue. Maeve frowned and shot back, "Why? I learn't `em from you!"

Naomh frowned and pushed her younger sister lightly in the shoulder. Maeve squeaked in surprise as she tipped over, falling on her side in the dirt. The air was quiet for a few moments before the girls erupted in girlish giggles. Their mother chuckled lightly as she shook her head.

Above them the sun was beginning its descent as the afternoon rolled on. The wind began to pick up, whistling through the trees and making them groan from the movement like the elderly. Riding on the wind was the smell of moisture, not the salty smells that came from the sea, but a cleaner water like rain. And in the distance they could see a dark mass of clouds approaching fast.

"C'mon, let's get this inside," Their mother said with a frown as she noticed the clouds. "Tis' gonna rain soon."

The blanket had just been hung on its last rungs before a scream rent the air, sending both girls running for the door. Outside, in the failing light, Maeve could just make out the grim face of her father, normally stoic but swathed in humor, now twisted into something terrifying. Running to the heart of the village, where the market was located, her father's back was exposed to her. She could see the large tattooed bird move as if it were flying, carrying him forward. Her brothers were behind him, their normal bickering given up for the seriousness of some situation that Maeve couldn't understand yet. Her mother pushed her back into the house, and shut the door, leaving her trapped with Naomh.

Naomh kept her sister in her arms as they waited silently for someone to return. In those quiet minutes angry shouts and distressed screams came from the commotion. With each sound the ominous feeling in Maeve's stomach grew, until she was shaking with anxiety. Naomh began to rock her back and forth when her mother and brothers returned, but they weren't alone. In Aed's and Ailpein's arms was the mangled body of a young boy, the son of her father's closest friend.

Maeve's eyes widen and her heart seized, dropping into her stomach when she recognized the bloodied face of the boy. She let out a mournful sound as she tore from her sister's arms. Racing over to her brothers she watched as they lowered him onto the cold stone floor.

"Conall!" She cried, her eyes swimming with tears. "Wake up! Wha' happened?"

Just then her father burst into their tiny home, his blue eyes were wild and his face was contorted with anger. Looking to his sons he told them, "Quickly, grab yer swords, they're commin'!"

They nodded and grabbed their swords and spears, before they followed their father back out the door. Naomh stood and tried going after them, but her mother stopped her. Panic sparked in her voice as she demanded, "What's goinn' on? Who's attacken us?"

"Invaders from the sea," Her mother answered, looking toward her youngest child crying over the boy's body.

"What?" Naomh asked, but she was interrupted by a series of horrid coughing. Maeve fell from the body as it came to life again. With wide eyes she appeared by his side again, latching onto his hand in an attempt of holding him to this world. "Conall!"

A groan rent the air, Conall's form shifting just enough to draw a ragged breath. The deep gash to his chest gave a wet, sucking sound as he drew air into his lungs. Blood bubbled against Naomh's hand, where it was pressed against the wound to try and stop the blood, and the young woman winced at the slick warmth as Maeve's eyes filled with fear.

"Dragons from the water," He murmured, the words slurring and nearly unrecognizable. He coughed, blood and spittle staining his pale chin. Maeve released his hand as if it burned her, her hear beating wildly as she watched. His eyes were wide and glassy, staring up at the ceiling but seeing nothing. "Blood in their teeth and on their hands."

"Whose blood, lad?" Maeve's mother pressed, her face pale and lips set in a grim line.

"Gods, Sorcha," his voice broke, tears welling into his sightless brown eyes. Maeve didn't want to let the name mean anything, but the way the boy's head fell to the side, at too unnatural an angle to be in sleep, she knew what that name meant. They were gone, all of them.

"No. It can't be," she whispered. Maeve suddenly went cold as shock washed over her. All of her friends went to play on the beach. She was supposed to be with them. Now they're dead, and she's still alive…

"I'm sorry Mae," Conall coughed before his eyes dulled.

Maeve sat there, her little frame swaying slightly by some power she wasn't aware of, her eyes watching his hand, where it hung at his side, limp. Words floated by around her and over her head, and all her little mind could process was that she wanted to hold that hand. Shaking fingers reached out, and just as the tips of her flesh met the end of his, she was startled at how warm he still was.

Death was supposed to be cold, like a fish from the sea or the metal of a blade. It wasn't supposed to be warm, and there, and wearing someone's skin, at least not until that skin was old and wrinkled and littered with the red spots of old age. It surely shouldn't be wearing Conall's skin, not when he was awake and spiteful and so bitter to her just a few hours ago. It wasn't supposed take the appearance of the boy who saved her life, an only child that thought and treated her like a younger sister. It wasn't supposed to apologize without giving her time to do the same.

Suddenly a loud terrified scream sliced through the haze and the sounds of battle awoke her senses. Naomh and her mother stopped arguing and turned towards the door. With a stern voice her mother ordered her to stay with Maeve in the house. "An' don' ye leave unless you must!" Grabbing her own sword, their mother left them alone in the growing dark.

Naomh let out a shaky breath as she knelt beside her sister. Closing the boy's eyes, she whispered to her. "I know."

The sounds of anger and battle raged around them, as Maeve and Naomh crouched together behind the fabric rack. Maeve clutched at her sister's animal skin top, trying to block out all the sounds as she squeezed her eyes shut. The screams of the dying and the war cries of the crazed split through the air, mixing with the heavy smell of blood and ash. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare, but it was only just beginning.

Outside, the chaos seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing breath. Swords clashed just beyond the door. Bodies smashed into the stone, echoing in the small enclosure. From the open window across the room Naomh could see a portion of the fighting. Big burly men roared and swung mighty swords and axes, sending them crashing into the village men. They were fair hair and hairy, with muscles that seemed too big for their bodies. Many held crazed looks in their eyes, as if entranced by some malevolent spirit. Grey dragon-like scales spread from under their heavy furs and leather, making them look even more demonic.

Bodies flew through the air, blood spraying everywhere. Suddenly the girls' mother appeared in the window, her soiled tattooed back facing them as two large men towered over her. Maeve opened her eyes then and watched, unable to look away from the scene.

The invaders laughed as they gazed at the almost nude woman in front of them, wearing very little leather on her chest and pants, a spear and shield in hand. They drew their swords high, ready to attack, when she let out a scream that rivaled a Banshee's. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, she lunged forward and rammed her spear into one of the men's stomachs. She rolled out of the way as the other man swung his sword at her. When she stood again she had her own sword in hand, and let out a feral growl. The man brought his sword down again, but she was too quick. With his weapon stuck in the ground their mother got behind him. She then jabbed her sword into his spine. The man froze, eyes wide, before he shook the ground with his fall.

Looking up from the carnage, their mother locked eyes with the girls. Snapping out of her battle haze, she smiled and the animalistic expression melted away. But in that fatal moment of distraction another enemy appeared behind her and Maeve's eyes widened. Before either girl could utter a warning, the man grabbed their mother by her hair and lifted her off the ground. She struggled against the man as he laughed at her futile attempts. Then he speared his sword into her back, going through her stomach. Their mother let out a bloody scream. Maeve watched as her mother's strong frame, stone-like composure crumbled into fine dust.

"Mumma!" Maeve screamed before her sister could stop her. The man saw the girls through the window and a devilish grin spread across his scarred face. He tossed their mother's body from his sword as he approached the door.

Naomh quickly shoved Maeve behind her. Drawing an arrow, she readied her bow and aimed for the door. "When I say 'run' do't. No questions. Jus' run!"

"But-!" Maeve began to protest. The door rattled as the man charged at it, trying to knock it down.

"No buts! Jus' run for the trees," Naomh told her as the door started to give. "I'll look for ya when it's ov'r. I promise!"

The wood shattered and the man charged through. Naomh let the arrow loose and it lodged in his throat. In shock he grabbed at his throat. Blood gushed through his fingers. He tried to breath but he only gurgled, his wind pipe pierced. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head before he collapsed.

"C'mon!" Naomh shouted. She grabbed her sister's wrist and dragged her out of the house. The chaos erupted around them and swelled like the waves of the ocean during a storm. Acting quickly, Naomh continued to drag Maeve. Screams continued to follow them as they fled toward the trees, just yards behind their home. But as they ducked out of the way, a few of the invaders caught sight of them and began pursuing them.

"Go! Run!" Naomh ordered, releasing her wrist and stopping suddenly. Maeve staggered and watched as her sister notched another arrow. Chasing them were a handful of muscled wild men. Leading them was a giant with a gaping hole where one of his eyes should have been. Painted on his torn chest was a large dragon that coiled around him and blew fire down his arm.

Aiming, Naomh launched another arrow and hit a man in the chest. He screamed and crumbled to the ground. As she grabbed another arrow she turned to look behind. Noticing that Maeve was still there, she yelled, "_Go!_"

Swallowing her fear, Maeve made a dash for the forest. Her mind went to sleep while her instincts took over. They screamed for her to run. The distance began to fade. Trees blurred as the dark forest loamed over her.

The scream echoed in her ears. Her her legs ached as she stumbled, climbing over the odd fallen branch that caught her little ankles and sent her sprawling. Smoke stung at her eyes and hung in her nose. But all she could focus on was that scream. A scream that she could no longer tell whose lips it came from: her own or her dead sister's? Because wouldn't Naomh have to be dead to let those men come from her?

Something bit into her knee as she fell once again. But her legs carried her up and off again; her mind not catching up to where her feet were leading her. The smell of smoke flooded the air. Lightning rent the sky, lighting her path for just a moment before she was cast into darkness again. The mud beneath her swallowed her feet, trying to drag her down as she went. Her pace slowed as the terrain changed. She pulled her feet from the ground with a loud _pop_.

It wasn't long before she heard the men approaching behind her. She dared a glance back. She could see the dragon chasing her, its simple lines coming to life. Her heart seized at the sight. Fear frozen in her veins.

They were but a few meters away. Biting her lip, Maeve tried to run faster. As she turned onto a larger path something dug into her shoulder. She cried out. Tumbling forward, she went further into the woods and into the underbrush. Hissing, she gazed at her shoulder. Imbedded in the flesh was a throwing knife.

Blinking back tears Maeve staggered to her feet. Looking around her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the forest. Somewhere behind her, she could hear the men's shouting. Her mind reeled as it thought of what to do. Then something caught her attention.

A tiny blue flame danced above the ground. It beckoning her forward in unintelligible whispers. Screaming, Maeve tried to back away. The pain in her shoulder ignited, making her stop. Panting, she stared at the flame, as her mind went back to the dragon.

Just behind the first one a whole line began to blink into existence. A blue path formed through the dense trees. Something deep inside told her to run, not to follow. But the dragon was chasing her, they would find her soon. Struggling to stand, her mind blocked out all the stories she was told. And stumbling forward, she followed the lights.

* * *

***Just a little note, a lot of Viking ships were built to look like dragons or serpent-like sea monsters.  
**

***Also another note, a lot of historians believe that the Picts actually fought naked, but many of the movies and other media depict them as wearing a few pieces of leather and no significant armor.**

***And Maeve's mother's prediction actually comes from scientific research. Many have found that people with ancestors from the Highlands have a higher intution, or "sixth sense", and are more connected to their surroundings, being extremely sensitive to certain things or energies. That's why some people can predict the future or judge a person's character at first glance, because of this "sixth sense", which is actually a sensitivity to their surroundings and the people around them. :)**

_**AN: Thanks for reading! I would like to thank **_Reincarnated Poet _**for helping me with this chapter, and to all the people who reviewed, favorited and followed the story! (It makes me really happy!) Also, I will try to answer any questions that you may have regarding the history and references that I am using for this story. And just like in the Prologue, I will be give in-depth explanations on certain cultural and historical references that I make. Have a great day! :)  
**_

_~Haru Eclipse_


	3. Chapter 2 Of Wisps and Storms

_**AN: I would like to say thank you to all of the people who have reviewed/favorited/followed my story, you guys make me smile! :) And I would like to give a BIG THANK YOU to** _Reincarnated Poet **_for really helping me with this chapter, she is absolutely amazing! As before, all notes that I have will be at the end. And if you have any questions about any references or legends that I use drop me a message and I'll be happy to explain them to you. Thanks for reading! _**

**_Maeve is pronounced: MAY-VE_**

* * *

Chapter 2 Of Wisps and Storms

She could feel the dragon's gaze against her back as she fled. A torrent of chilling rain falling down, turning the dirt to mud that sucked and held her feet as she struggled against it as hard as her legs would allow. Blood seeped from her shoulder, running down the hand she held tight against it as she ran deeper into the forest after the lights as they flickered into and out of existence around her, like candles struggling in the wind.

Someone shouted behind her, the words harsh and unrecognizable, whether from the language or the storm, Maeve couldn't tell, but they ignited a fear in her belly that she couldn't control. Her head swiveled about, her eyes just catching the forms of the two men chasing after her. Her mind could only process that the dragon wasn't there.

'_Where is it?'_ A voice screamed inside her head. She could feel the monster's gaze. But she couldn't find its eyes.

Squeaking, she raced forward. She followed the lanterns blindly as they led her from the main path. The rain hardly bothered her as she entered the older, sparser part of the forest. The trees reached high, their broad leaves creating a canopy above her, blocking the blunt of the rain. Her eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness. The only light she found were the bright glow of the lanterns, and the brief strikes of lightning.

Maeve's mind whirled as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Behind her the men were gaining ground. Her lungs ached. Her whole body burned with an intense heat, but she kept going. Fear forced her deeper into the trees. Following the lights as they led her around sharp corners and brier patches, seeking safety.

The trees all blurred together. Time slowed and dragged on. The forest became eerily silent as the storm paused above. No wildlife could be heard, only Maeve's panting and the harsh foreign words that followed. Bushes rattled as she ran through them, the thorns snagging at her clothing and ripping her skin.

A stray bramble ran across the path. Its thorns dug into her skin as the rough vine wrapped around her ankles. Unable to get her foot free, Maeve collapsed. Her hands slid deep into the mud as they stretched out to catch herself, but her injured arm jolted back, causing pain to bloom again. Maeve yelped as she grabbed her shoulder with a muddy hand, her grungy fingers touching the cool metal of the knife there.

Pushing back tears, she forced herself up again. She heard the dragon roar, sending birds flying into the rain.

A breath passed and the sound of rushing water reached her ears, slicing through the darkness. Ahead the trees parted, revealing the energetic river as it cut into the muddy bank. Maeve stopped and leaned against one of the boulders that lined the river. Before her the lanterns lined a fallen log that stretched across the entire river. The wood looked rotten, even in the dark. And the river's current seemed too forceful as it pushed its way through the mud.

Maeve took a tentative step back, her hand leaving the stone's cold rough surface. Fear of death seized her completely. But her paralysis didn't last long. Loud curses broke through her fear. She could hear the dragon's feral roar as she forced herself onto the log. Her instincts screamed for her to stop. She stumbled across the moss covered wood. Her bare feet slid over the slick moldy surface. When she made it to the end she slipped. Falling forward she landed hard on her injured shoulder, the knife cutting further into her.

Maeve let out a pained cry at the contact. As she scrambled into a sitting position she watched in horror as the men broke through the briers. Madness colored their dark eyes as they grinned at her, their axes in hand. Staring at her, they began to cross the makeshift bridge.

She tried to stand, but she didn't get far off the ground before she collapsed again. The muscles in her legs tightened, balling up in her one of her calves, making it useless. She wheezed as her lungs strained against her ribcage, as if trying to break free. The crazed eyes of the men chilled her, turning them into beasts−monsters that Death had sent to retrieve her soul. White arms reached up from the water as they tried to grab at the living. A dead moan echoed around her. Maeve let out another scream as lightning rent the sky.

The wood creaked and groaned beneath their heavy weight. But they didn't stop or turn back, their booted feet carrying them forward. Under them the water crashed against the large stones, eagerly waiting, licking at the log with hungry tongues.

Before the men could get to the other end of the fallen log, it began to crack. Within moments the trunk splintered and split in two. They screamed as they plummeted into the raging river. The crazed looks dissolved into panic as the current carried them under and away from the bleeding girl.

Maeve sat in silence for a long while, too shocked to move. The rain cooled the air and the drops that penetrated the tree's dense canopy soaked through her ragged clothing. Her wild hair clung to her face and bare skin. And her heart thumped erratically in her chest as she stared ahead with wide eyes. Fear kept her rooted to the ground and made her thoughts too frantic to collect.

Lightning lit the sky again, streaking violently from the heavens as thunder followed after it. Over the sounds of the river and the rain she could hear the chilling screams echoing into the air. On the other side, the brier bushes shook and rattled as something pushed against them.

Without thinking Maeve fell into the shrub beside her, using her good arm to pull her the rest of the way in. The branches poked at her side and tour into her flesh. A girl around her sister's age broke free of the briers. In her slender arms was a wailing infant swaddled in blood-soaked rags. The girl looked around franticly, her green eyes wide with fright. Her skin was pale and her hair stuck to her face. It was one of Naomh's friends, Genovefa.

Maeve was silent, her heart beating in her ears as she watched. Genovefa clutched the baby closer to her chest as she searched for something. It continued to wail, the baby's voice breaking from the effort.

"_Shhh_," She pleaded as she moved it gently, trying to soothe it. But the child could sense her distress, could hear it in her words. So it did what it could, scream in confusion.

Seeming to give up in her search, Genovefa collapsed in the mud. She pulled her knees beneath her. Rocking the baby in her arms she continued in her efforts to calm the child. "_Shhh_. I understand. Please, stop yer cryin'!"

As the girl tended to the baby, Maeve peered from the leaves. She watched the interactions and she heard the babe quiet its voice. Her heart clenched at what she saw, aching to be the baby. To be wrapped in warm and secure arms. To be rocked and sung to like her mother always did.

Maeve was pulled from her thoughts. Using her good arm, she began to pull herself from the bush. Cold, slick mud squished between her fingers and coated her hand as she dragged herself. When she poked her head out of the leaves, the twigs scratching at her skin, she saw a dark shadow appear behind Genovefa. Towering over the girl, the shadow raised its arm. Lightning ignited from the heavens just then, revealing the gleaming blade of an axe. Maeve gasped, freezing to the spot as she watched.

Genovefa turned around and screamed. The noise died in her throat as he whipped his blade across her neck. It cut through her, a shy away from severing her head. Her body fell backward. The killer stepped completely from the bushes. On his chest was the dragon. Her eyes widened as the infant started to wail again, its voice ragged and rough.

Maeve could hear the screams of her people, but she couldn't see them behind the man. The darkness and the trees blocked her view, but the air held back no sound. Her body went numb again as the adrenaline thrummed through her veins. _'He's gonna kill it!' _

She wanted to help the baby, but there was nothing she could do but watch. Instead of killing it though, the man crouched down in front of it. Taking a large hand he slow reached a finger out to the blood soiled cloth. The baby stopped its crying from atop Genovefa's corpse, hypnotized by the man. Maeve sucked in a breath as she watched him poke at the child's wrappings, revealing more of the infant inside. For a moment his rage washed away, the animalistic color in his eyes fading. The dragon returned to the man's skin as it calmed with him.

Lighting struck again, illuminating the man in bright light. The shadows of his face highlighted his features. The gaping hole in his eye grew, transforming his face into a naked skull. In the brief light the killer looked like Death itself coming to collect her soul. The dragon came to life again as it stared into to her eyes, grinning as if it knew her fate. And the screams that she heard sounded like a Banshee screaming into the night.

Was it hers or the other people that ran in the forest? Or was it truly a Banshee, wailing in the night to mark her coming death?** (*)**

Suddenly all color and heat drained from her body. She began to tremble the longer she stared into its eyes. The screaming continued, like the mantra of the dead. A breath later a scream tour through the air nearby. Maeve's mouth hung wide open.

Looking up from the baby, the man noticed her. She could see the same raw animalistic rage in his eyes keep back into his eyes like a cat. The dragon stared her down with the same look in its eyes. She bit her lip as her heart dropped into her stomach.

The lights behind her whispered to her again. Their words too soft to make out, but a few were clear. As the dragon let out a fear-instilling roar they called to her, _"Come. Run. Follow!"_

Maeve snapped and began to run after the lanterns. Behind her the man raised his axe. The dragon tried to follow. Both eager to kill her too. She left the bank as the baby began again, its shrill wail following after her.

Her movements were slower now. The pain in her arm no longer bothered her, but the blood flowed from the wound nonetheless. The edges of her vision began to blur. Her thoughts fogged over. But her fear and the dragon that hid with in the shadows kept her moving, following the lights into the dark.

Minutes seemed to transform into hours as she finally slowed and dragged herself through the wide paths between the old trees. They were ancient with massive trunks, covered with thick vines and growing moss. There were so few of them but they littered the floor with their debris. Fog rolled over the moist ground like a smoky winter blanket. The only noise came from the girl as the shriveled leaves crunched beneath her feet, and the twigs snapped.

_'The Ancient Wood,'_ Maeve's mind barely registered. Her thoughts were sluggish as she moved with equal speed, her back foot dragging behind her through the mud. She avoided a few branches as something tugged at her mind, something that she should remember. But she paid it no mind as she followed the light, like a toddler after a pet.

The cold began to creep in, fighting with the heat that inflamed her body. A coat of sweat covered her skin, inviting a chill that sent goosebumps scattering across her paling skin. Her nose tingled as the mist filled her nostril, making her sneeze. The wind blew, sending more water into her face. The cold went straight to her bones but the heat hovered on the surface. Her body shivered at the different temperatures. Maeve trailed after the shimmering flames, desperate for a break, a warm place to stop.

Before her the path sloped and revealed a small hollow. The trees lined the edge, not daring to enter the natural enclosure. Instead they circled around it, leaving an open hole in the canopy. Through the hole the clouds blocked out the sky and the rain poured down freely, no longer hindered by the leaves.

She faltered down the slope. Losing her balance, gravity won as it pushed her to the wet grassy ground. She rolled forward and into a bush, the briers tearing her skin and ripping her clothing. Creatures exploded from the bush as she startled them into the rain. A strangled cry escaped her lips as pain shot through her arm once more.

Curling into a ball, she cradled her arm as she hid in the bush. The loud curses and shouts continued to echo around her, coming from the shadows the pursued her. Maeve bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut; trying to force away the terrible nightmare. But beneath her lids the dragon roared, sending fire into her face. They licked at her face and danced all around her like a whirlwind, forcing her eyes open again.

She screamed again as she held herself closer. Before her the lights wavered in the darkness, beckoning her forward in inaudible whispers. Maeve shook her head, getting mud and twigs tangled into her hair. Her eyes began to sting as tears started to form.

She groaned as her shoulder throbbed, making her sweat despite the cold. She shivered again, causing the pain to flare. For a few moments she didn't move, her body almost at its limit. Sleep wanted to claim her then and she was ready for it, but the lights wouldn't allow it.

"_Come. Follow."_ They whispered together, their voices softer and more distant than before. Maeve looked at the flames dancing above the ground. Beyond them sat a lone hill that stood against the rocky shelf behind it. Lightning lit up the forest then and the rain came harder, pelting her with icy bullets. The light revealed an entrance into the hill, like a yawning mouth. Maeve knew she needed shelter. She couldn't pass out in the forest. She needed to hide from the dragon. The lanterns agreed, as if reading her thoughts, _"Yes, shelter. Follow."_

Her energy all but spent, Maeve pushed to her knees, the mud soaking her dress. But as she stood, her legs wobbled beneath her and they collapsed under the weight. Falling to the ground, her wild hair got tangled in the branches and mud covered her body. Dragging herself out and away from the bush, she tried again. After a few failed attempts she finally got to her feet. Swaying terribly, her head feeling light and faded, she slowly made her way to the cave. She continued to drag her leg behind her and through the mush as she clutched her bleeding shoulder. The blue flames lit the way, leading her into the large mouth of the structure.

When she reached the entrance she stopped. Deep rooted fear and trepidation flared in her mind. Her father's words whispered from the fog, _'N'ver go inta caves so deep in the woods. That's wh're the Fey_ dwell!_' _**(**)**

Maeve trembled as the lights begged her forward. Torn and tired she didn't know what to do, until lightning struck again. This time the bolt was closer to her than ever before. It tore from the sky and attacked one of the smaller trees just beyond the cave. On contact the tree screamed and exploded, sending large shards everywhere.

Before any of the shards could hurt her, Maeve collapsed into the cave. Dragging herself by her good arm, she entered and stopped close to the opening. Exhausted and terrified, she began to cry. The lights disappeared as she curled up into the fetal position. Cold sunk deep within, making her body ache. Sweat poured from her face as an intense heat consumed her flesh. Her tears were heavy and made her choke. She wanted this all to be just a horrible nightmare. She wanted it to end.

Maeve wanted her mother to hold her, to smooth her hair and sing to her. She wanted Naomh beside her, trying to make her laugh, to forget the storm. She wanted her father there, his deep voice calming her. Maeve even wished for her brothers, Aed and Ailpein, to tease her as she cried.

But she was alone now. The lights were gone. The storm raged on in front of her. And she knew not of what might dwell within the cave. All the stories she had forgotten began to race around her mind. They remind her of the dangers of the floating lanterns. As fear sparked inside her once more, it was her mother's voice that calmed her. _"Tis' true that ta Wisps are mischievous, but they can also ac' as guardians to our people._"

Not long after it began her tears stopped. Sleep allured her as the storm continued around her. Before she gave in, she heard the fading laughter of the Wisps, or was it the Fey? Energy crackled in the air. Then she knew nothing.

Maeve was awoken by the bright sunlight. Her muscles were stiff and sore as she uncurled herself. Groaning, she sat up and looked around. She was in the entrance of a cave and a forest expanded just outside. Birds sung their high tuned morning calls. Some serenaded their mates with beautiful songs. While others were sharp, annoying as they pierced her eyes and fluttered amongst the leaves. Cold stone sat beneath her hand, cooling her heated skin.

A heavy fog descended on her mind as she tried to remember what happened. But nothing came. The only thing she received was a sharp headache that focused between her eyes and radiated outwards. With a groan, she rubbed just above her nose.

Maeve decided that she needed to leave and find her way home. After a few moments her legs responded and she began to stand. She extended her arms behind her and began to push off the ground. Pain suddenly flared in her left shoulder and she cried out. Falling to the other side, she grasped the wounded joint in confusion. Her trembling hand felt the cool metal that protruded from her flesh. Flowing freely, thick liquid wept from the wound and coated her fingers.

Maeve took back her hand and saw her blood covering her palm. Bright red stains dripped down the dark color of dried blood. Eyes widened as terror filled her and the heavy fog over her mind began to dissipate.

Fire and blood filled her vision. Lifeless bodies littered the floor of her mind. Brutish men sat in the corners of her eyes. Metal gleamed in the sunlight. Her heart raced, beating hard against her tiny ribcage. _Ba-**BUMP**! Ba-**BUMP**!_

Dying screams and rumbling thunder flooded her ears. And the pungent order of ash and death invaded her nose. Her eyes and nose burned from the imaginary smoke.

The dragon filled her vision. Its slick dark scales shifting and glimmering in the fire's glow as it moved. Turning its head, large golden orbs bore into hers. Rage tainted the gold with red. Fully seeing her, it turned completely around. Stretching its large wings, it sprung at her. Its mouth opened wide, showing all the sharp gleaming teeth within. Fire poured out from deep inside, shooting up and over his tongue into the air.

She screamed and the dragon vanished. Warm sunlight broke through the vision and the forest replaced the beast. Her face burned, as if the flames were truly real.

Acid burned at her throat as thick bile rose from within. Her tiny body lurched forward, bent as it burned her mouth. Forcing itself from her mouth, it splattered against the cold stone floor. She choked and sputtered from the violent reaction. Her tiny arms quivered from her weight, almost failing to keep her up.

Shaking like a leaf in the wind, she dragged herself away and to the cave's opening. Confusion and a deep pain grabbed at her heart. _'I need ta get home! I need ta find Mumma and Da!'_

Finally she got to her feet, but her legs trembled beneath her weight. Maeve cursed herself and bit down on her bottom lip. Willing her legs to move, she half dragged them as she went into the forest. The bright sunlight stung her eyes and conflicted with the images that floated in and out of her vision.

She stumbled forward as a mischievous root snagged her ankle. Her hand shot out, hitting the tree beside her. The bark felt rough beneath her touch as she steadied herself. It bit into her skin as she pushed off the tree.

Her mind played tricks on her as she moved.

Imaginary lightning flashed. The nothing. Darkness.

Blue flickering lights. Flames dancing.

Blood oozed from the lush grass beneath her bare feet. Slick. Red. It seeped between her toes.

Faceless men. Faceless women. Faceless children. Corpses appeared and disappeared. Always at the corner of her vision. Never truly seen.

The dragon. The dragon she could see, stalked her from behind the trees. Sneaky. Predatory as it hunted her.

Bird calls competed with the dying screams and the wailing of children.

Thunder boomed.

War calls chilled her. Menacing laughter cackled into the air.

Her head throbbed as her ears were flooded. So much noise. So much chaos!

Tears streamed down Maeve face as she tried to discern reality from the cruel tricks of her mind. She was scared, terrified and alone. And through all the things she still realized that something was wrong. The woods she stumbled through were different, foreign.

These trees were unfamiliar to her…this was not _her_ forest.

Maeve's heart dropped to her stomach as she increased her pace. She hobbled along the path her feet found, stumbling over rocks and fallen limbs as she went. She searched widely around her for something, someone who was familiar to her. Finally finding her voice, Maeve began to scream, "Mumma! _Mumma_!"

Her voice was ragged, tearing apart her throat as she shouted. A sick feeling washed over her that her mind would not let her understand. Her voice grew louder and louder as she went. "Da! Da! _Naomh_!"

Her tears choked her as she cycled through her family. "Aed! Ailpein! Wh're are ya?"

But no one answered, nothing in the wood stirred. Maeve let out a heartbroken cry that was full of all the fear that a terrified child could muster. Her mind's tricks grew worse.

Flaming arrows flew by, making her duck out of the way. _Whizzzz! _

Barely missed!

Whistling, they swung overhead. Swords. Axes gleaming in the light. Slicing the air above her head.

Spears landed in the dirt. Round shaft wobbling. Back and forth from the ground.

Bodies sailed through the air and collided into trees.

Shields rammed into her.

She stumbled, tripping over her feet.

She could no longer hear anything outside of the nightmare that played through her head. Forcing her hands to her ears, she tried to block it all out. _'Please, make it stop! Make it stop! __Mumma!__'_

As if answering her pleas, an unearthed tree root stretched across her path. Catching the girl by surprise, the root tripped her. Gravity fought against her as Maeve tried to regain her balance. But her body refused to listen and gravity won, sending the girl tumbling down. Before she stopped her world went dark again. And the nightmare ended.

* * *

**(*) Banshees are part of many mythologies in Europe. They can found in Celtic, Irish, and Scottish legends with varying abilities and significance. For Maeve and her people, I decided that they are the warnings before Death. They are considered to be under the Fey category, and many believe them to be the spirits of women who have lost their children to war, famine, etc. Their mournful cries signal that death is near, and if you find them washing clothes in the river it means that either you are the next to die, or the person the clothes belong to will. Other legends tell that if she looks directly at you that you will die soon. So they don't bring death or cause it, they just warn others of it.**

**(**) The Celts and others believed that small isolated hills and the structures beneath them lead to the world of the Fey. Most Fey are feared, because people believed them to be malevolent and evil. The Fey were thought to play horrible tricks on humans, steal their babies, and cause them to die horribly just to list a few. But not all Fey are considered bad, just most of them. Kelpie are also considered to be Fey. **


	4. Chapter 3 A Murder of Crows

_**AN: S**_**orry for the**_** lateness, school has started for me and my free time is ever fleeting. But I promise to update as soon and as much as I can before it all disappears! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this story so far, you guys just make my day all the time! Thank you to**__Reincarnated Poet** for helping me revise this chapter and make it suitable for you guys to read. Enjoy! **_

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Chapter 3 _A Murder of Crows_

_Third Age: 2871_

Humming along to the various morning songs of the birds around him, Radagast wandered into a small glade. Most of the sun's rays collected in the open space, making the open area brighter than the surrounding forests. Old thick trees lined the border and fresh flowers carpeted the ground with pastel hues. A lazy creek wound its way around a few stones before disappearing into the forest.

The glade was quite beautiful and reminded the wizard of one of the many reasons he chose to stay within the Greenwood and protect it. Taking a deep breath, Radagast inhaled the honey sweet aroma of the flowers. His eyes crossed and his body relaxed. Then letting it out, his shoulders dropped as his eyes went back to normal and he looked around. The birds around him chattered and rested on low hanging branches. A few fluttered around him as he walked, their high pitched chirps familiar and homely to him.

As Radagast looked around the clearing, something caught his attention. Amongst the flowers was a dark colored lump surrounded by a few crows. Curious, the wizard stepped forward to get a better look.

"I wonder what happened here," He mused, talking to some of the birds around him. When he got closer his eyes widened with realization. "It's a _child_!"

The lump gave way to detail and revealed a little girl. Tangled red hair stood out from the grass, dirtied by mud and matted together by dried clumps of blood. Twigs and leaves poked from the messy tresses, as if she were some wild child, and the crows picked at them with their beaks. Pale damaged skin grayed under the sun. The body lay on its stomach, but her face was turned out of the dirt, revealing soft cheek bones and a rounded jaw. Her body lay motionless as the birds picked and pulled at her, like any corpse on a battlefield.

Horrified, Radagast used his staff to scatter and scare the crows away. "Shoo! Off with you!"

Protesting profusely, the murder of crows was chased away by the other birds. Kneeling down, Radagast examined the girl more closely. Her small body was clammy to the touch. The wound in her shoulder looked deep and a knife still protruded from it as the blood flowed around the blade. His brow wrinkled under his brown hat and the skin under his blue eyes sagged as he murmured, "Poor thing."

Her closed lids twitched suddenly. The movement was subtle, but Radagast saw them move. He knew that the body could still twitch even hours after death, but something stirred in him. Reaching out an old gnarled hand, he placed it under her nose. He held it there for a few moments, feeling warm gentle air brush against his fingers. Eyes widening, he yelped, "She's alive!"

The birds around them chattered, excited by the news. The wizard's mind began to buzz, trying to think of what to do as he fumbled around. His hands fluttered over her small body, never staying in one place and barely touching her as he fretted. Radagast was familiar with healing wounded animals, but this girl wasn't an animal. Granted, he didn't know what she was quite yet, but she wasn't what he was used to.

"Oh, what do I do?" The wizard searched his scattered brain. His dirty fingers scratched at the scraggy hair beneath his hat. Wild eyebrows came together as his eyes looked up from her body, as if he could see the answer in his brain. He had never healed a person before. Could he treat her like other wounded animals?

Chewing on his lower lip, Radagast examined her shoulder again. The knife was embedded to the hilt, turned just so into the meaty flesh of her back and shoulder, having torn through flesh on its way in. The weapon had torn through the muscle and sinew, leaving ragged edges on either side of the blade.

Rummaging in the folds of his brown robes, the wizard found a thick piece of fabric. The soiled rag wasn't the best, but it was all he had. Releasing his staff, he used one hand to surround the wound with the rag and the other to grab the knife. He knew he couldn't pull it out here in the forest, or else she would bleed to death before they made it to his home. So with gentle care, he wrapped the cloth around her shoulder and around the blade, to keep it still.

When he was done, the birds chirped at him frantically, telling him to hurry. Raising his voice out of fear, but not anger, he replied, "I know, I know! I'm trying!"

Before he stood, he tenderly picked up the child's body. Then, cradling it in one arm he grabbed his staff with his other hand. Standing to his full height, Radagast took off into the trees once more, though this time going much faster than before. He let his mind go blank as his feet carried him home. All the while the birds followed after him, occasionally warning him of any obstacles in his path.

Minutes later, his home came into view. It stood on the edge of the forest where the trees were the thickest. The house itself looked hastily thrown together with an old tree growing in the center. Hopping over roots and ducking under moss covered branches, Radagast quickened his pace. Reaching the door, he burst into the building, his eyes darted around. Finding the closest table, he used his staff to wipe all the miscellaneous things from the surface before setting the girl down, her chest against the old dark wood.

Then he went around his home, searching for different materials to help the child. Throwing open every cupboard, he looked over every surface and through every collection. Glass bottles stood in the cabinets with no order to their arrangement. Some were tied together with loose pieces of twine. Others lay on the shelves, ready to roll out and onto the counter below to join some of the others. Bright colors stood out from the darker liquids, and not all the bottles were labeled and those that were had scribbled scratching on tiny parchments. Roaming his eyes over the tiny bottles he found a few that he might need. With shaky hands he reached out and grabbed them, and knocked over a few of the others in the process.

Mumbling unintelligible things, the wizard continued to look around his cluttered home. Going to the back he found all his dishes, both clean and dirty stacked about. Finding a pot he opened the lid, only to get a whiff of something too molded to distinguish. He frowned before placing the lid back on, sealing the foul odor.

The birds continued to chitter at him from their perches, their tones a range of pitches. Scowling, the wizard shooed some of the bird away from where they sat on some jars and dishes. "I know!" Radagast called out as he shifted through the different kitchenware. "I'm going as fast as I can!"

Finally he found a few pots that were empty of any moldy substance. Grabbing them he fumbled through another drawer. His hands shook as the more time went by, his nerves starting to ware on him. Feeling the cool stone beneath his fingers, he quickly grabbed the object and juggled the items over to the table.

As he skittered about, the animals that dwelled in the house appeared and inspected the girl. Mice and other rodents gathered around her and sniffed her out. A few of the hedgehogs got closer and rubbed against her cheek and limbs. When Radagast appeared at the table he saw all the animals around her, and feared that they would add to the infection. Frantically, he shooed them away with his hands and the creatures watched as he worked over her.

"Oh! I hope this works!" He worried, as he placed some herbs in a mortar and began grinding them. Taking the small stone pestle in his hands, he rolled the larger end around on the herbs. When they were grinded, he placed the herbs in another bowl before adding in a few liquids of various colors and fragrances. Together it made a sharp minty green paste that bubbled slightly, tiny bumps in the surface.

Unwrapping the dirtied rag from the girl's shoulder, he took a bowl of warm water and a cleaner cloth. Wetting it, he cleaned the wound and skin around the knife. The cloth turned red from the blood and colored the water before he was done. Moving the bowl away, he bent down low over the girl, eyes taking in the damage. The skin around the ragged wound was red, swollen and weeping a yellow, foul-smelling fluid. He reached a shaking finger out and touched the skin, pulling it back in shock from the heat.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" the wizard muttered. Then he placed his hand at the base of her neck. He waited a few moments, trying to find any sign of a pulse. A breath later he felt a slight beating, slow and faint. He frowned and went back to work, knowing that time was running short.

Carefully, he grabbed the hilt of the knife. In the other hand he held a fresh, clean cloth, ready to stop the bleeding. Slowly, he pulled the knife from her shoulder. Extracting the knife was more difficult than he thought. The blade went through muscle and tendons, making the process slow and careful as he tried to avoid the bones and arteries around it. A few moments later the knife came free and the wound started to bleed more. Quickly Radagast placed the fresh fabric on the wound, and applied ample pressure. But the hole wouldn't stop bleeding.

He chewed on his lower lip, his hairy brows shooting into his hairline. _'She'll bleed out by this rate!'_

Thinking on his feet, Radagast spoke the first thing that came to mind.

The healing incantation flowed from his lips like a whisper in a language few would know. His eyes rolled back into his head as the magic sparked and flared in the air. The animals huddled together. The child groaned and twitched as the magic filled her, but she didn't wake. When the words were done, they lingered in the air like early morning fog, before they disappeared and the magic dissipated.

Sighing, Radagast relaxed. Then he peeked beneath the blood stained cloth. Blood no longer flowed from the wound, the veins mended, but it was still exposed to the elements.

Letting out a breath of relief, the wizard grabbed the paste and began spreading it over and around the wound. The skin was red and warm to the touch, the first signs of infection showing. Yellowed pus still leaked from the open wound, but the blood no longer ran with it. When the paste was applied thickly and evenly, he began to wrap it with bandages. After a few minutes, he was done. The girl was still alive and breathing normally.

Now, all he had to do was to wait.

The Grey Wizard wandered into the forest. The dirt path was dry and uneven. Dust kicked into the air with each step as his grey robes rubbed against the ground, an almost constant dirt cloud hovering around his feet. Rocks poked out from the surface, far enough to trip any unsuspecting traveler or stub their toes. Tree roots creeped into the path as well, playing with the travelers and messing up their footing, but Gandalf was ready. Using his staff, he leaned on the hard wood as he made his way through the forest.

Brambles ran across the path, snagging the old man's robes. Grumbling under his breath, the wizard snatched his clothing from the thorns as the trees came down and brushed against his tall pointed hat. With his left hand he finally pulled free of the vines and continued forward.

Nodding, Gandalf went on as the path led him through the younger part of the forest. The trees here were thinner, taking up less space as they shot up toward the sun and not giving much room for birds to perch. Bushes lined the path, where the dirt was the richest and sunlight shown through the thin canopy. Flowers of blues and reds bloomed from the shrubs and swayed in the wind as butterflies fluttered around them. Their sweet fragrances mixed with the miscellaneous bushels of mint, accenting the wind and tickling noses all around.

Soon the path began to widen and the babbling of a creek grew nearer. Humming from under his grey hat, Gandalf watched as the ground changed from brown to green. The dirt path fell away and thin blades of grass carpeted the area. The trees skirted around, creating a natural wall for the small clearing. The creek lazily wound through the few large rocks before disappearing back into the forest.

Gandalf smiled as the bees danced above the white and yellow field flowers, like children playing tag. The afternoon's sun heated his back through the rough fabric, but the breeze helped keep him cool. Continuing his wordless tune, he stepped around the large boulders that stood up to his height. When he walked around them the dainty flowers turned red and their honeyed scent fell under a thicker, coppery smell.

_'What is this?'_ Gandalf thought as he slowed. Placing a hand on the cool stone, the wizard examined the small unnatural area. The once white flowers were now tainted and smashed down, and even the grass around them was not completely green.

Stepping forward, he waded through the still dew damp grass to get a closer look. Kneeling down, he used his wooden staff for support as his old eyes scanned over the stain. An old gnarled hand reached out from the grey robes and touched the flowers. Snapping one from the grass, Gandalf brought it closer to his face. The small petals were tainted with a dark maroon color that reeked of old copper.

_'It's blood.'_ Gandalf frowned and looked away from the small flower in his hand. _'It is not from any animal and there is too much here for the creature to be conscious, so where did it go?'_

Gazing around once more, Gandalf noticed no signs of any corpse or bones. The blood was mainly concentrated in that small area, suggesting that a large predator didn't drag the body away. The body was moved though, that much the old wizard was sure of. _'But where did it go?'_

The cobwebs in his mind suddenly caught a thought. Rising to his feet, his knees popping loudly in the process, Gandalf nodded his head. Readjusting his hat, the wizard continued forward with a new purpose and a quicker stride. "I do believe it is time to visit a dear friend."

Following the familiar path into the Greenwood, Gandalf immersed himself into the trees. They grew tall and thick, making it hard to stumble from the main path. A mix of thin and large trees filled the area; short shrubbery grew around them and along the path, making the wood look cluttered. Other areas opened up, the lack of sunlight from the broad canopy in those areas made it hard for new trees to grow and thrive.

The summer breeze shifted the leaves, making them sway to the high pithed songs of the birds. Tiny creatures rattled the bushes as they scampered across the forest floor, crushing dried leaves beneath their feet. The birds exploded from the trees, something startling them into the air.

As he traveled, Gandalf's stride lengthened longer than any ordinary old man's stride should be. The dirt beneath his feet was thin and hard, the path used often by travelers and merchants, their booted feet compacting the dirt. His wide brimmed hat shadowed his face from whatever afternoon light trickled through the leaves, but his eyes were ever alert.

After the clearing disappeared a few miles back the path opened up to a small enclosure. Surrounding the area were varying trees of height, age and species. Needled branches swept from the air, creating an archway of everlasting green. The fragrance in the air represented every tree, each intake of breath different than the last. In the middle of the space was a large old tree, one of the oldest in the forest that grew from the middle of a small home.

Gandalf smiled at the familiar sight of Rhosgobel, the home of the Brown Wizard. Stopping just under the needled archway, the wizard adjusted his grey thick robes before continuing on. The tune died in his throat as his stride kept constant, full of purpose that led him to the door. Grabbing the red rusted knocker, he tapped it against the old crooked wood. From inside Gandalf heard his friends muffled mumblings as he approached the entry. A few moments later the heavy door opened and Radagast's raised wild eyebrows greeted him.

"Radagast the Brown! It's been far too long since we last spoke," Gandalf's resonating voice jovial as his smile grew wider. "How are you, my dear fellow?"

Sputtering, his friend tried to find his words, his eyes widening. "Gandalf, I-I'm so glad to see you!" Realization lightened his blue eyes as he continued, gesturing wildly for Gandalf to come in with big swopping motions of his sleeves. "Please step inside! Step inside, I need your help."

Then the curious wizard disappeared into his home, leaving Gandalf with his own raised eyebrows and suspicions. The smile fell away from his lips, vanishing into his greyed beard, as he stepped inside. As always Rhosgobel was just as cluttered as the forest floor toward the end of autumn, when the leaves had all turned and fallen. Tiny animals hurried across the old floor boards while birds flew in and out of the tiny windows.

Looking around, the other wizard was nowhere to be seen amongst the waves of miscellaneous things. He carefully picked his way to the back, trying hard to avoid the wildlife running about. Rounding the old tree that grew from the middle, he followed the other wizard up the rickety stairs. They creaked and groaned as Gandalf placed his feet on the rotting wood. When he reached the top he was relieved that the clutter hadn't made it up the stairs.

Birds nested in the rafters, their younglings resting inside and making loud high-pitched chirps as their parents ignored them. The only light came from the small window above the bed. Across the room, Radagast stood over the single cot, his weathered hands rubbing over each other as he waited. With growing curiosity, Gandalf walked up to his skittish friend, his staff forgotten at the head of the stairs.

The birds grew silent; the only sound was the heavy breathing and worrying mutters. When the Grey Wizard drew closer, his breath snagged in his throat. Lying in the bed was a small child. Her skin was pale and shiny as her body twitched beneath the sheets. Red tinted her plump cheeks and her eyes shifted rapidly beneath their lids.

"She's fevered," Gandalf stated as he came closer. Looking at Radagast his eyes demanded an answer, but his tone was much gentler. "What happened?"

The wizard worried his lower lip with his teeth, smashing it between the two rows as he continued to fiddle with his hands. His eyes lowered and slid away from the other wizard. Instead they rested on the child that he had been caring for the past few days. Her condition had gotten progressively worse after the first day and Radagast was desperate.

"I found her bleeding, so much blood. She was dying!" His wrinkled hands rubbed together faster, his eyes not leaving the girl. A pained expression crossed his face, his frown deepening and eyebrows scrunching together on his forehead. "I couldn't just leave her."

Gandalf could hear the frantic tone in the other wizard's words and the sleeplessness that darkened the skin beneath his eyes. Sympathy softened Gandalf's eyes as he placed a reassuring hand on the Brown Wizard's shaking shoulders. Radagast's hands stilled as his shoulders slumped slightly, but it had no effect on the anxiety that leaked from his words. "I tried to help. I really did! But I can't seem to get rid of the fever. Oh Gandalf, you know I'm better with animals than sentient life!"

The Grey Wizard nodded, answering the unspoken request as he stepped forward. Grabbing ahold of the bedpost, he carefully knelt down to get a closer look. Her skin was pale, but not the color of death. A light layer of sweat covered her exposed flesh, reflecting the light from the open window above her. Her eyes constantly shifted beneath the lids as if she were trapped in a never ending nightmare. Reaching out an old gnarled hand, he tested her slick forehead. His touch felt icy compared to the heat that radiated from her brow, pulsing like dragon's fire.

Frowning, Gandalf took back his hand and examined her shoulder. He could hear Radagast's dry skin rubbing together as he stood over him. Unwrapping the soiled material, he revealed the healing wound. The bleeding had stopped, and the open flesh started to knit itself together, red and inflamed. Pus oozed from the infected injury.

Looking at the child once more, he could feel that her time was not yet done. Her face didn't scrunch together in pain alone, but also in determination. Teeth clenched behind slightly parted lips. Tiny hands fisted in the sheets, white knuckles showing, as she fought against the fever that consumed her body.

With a sigh he reached out and placed his hand on her forehead once more._ 'Yes, her journey is far from over.'_

"I think she will be fine," Gandalf spoke, silencing Radagast's worried mumblings. The Brown Wizard looked at him, question seeping into his eyes as his hands ceased their movements again. Gandalf's lips twitched, the smile breaking through the wrinkles of timeless age.

"What will we do?" Radagast asked as his body relaxed from Gandalf's reassurance and he lowered his hands.

Gandalf kept his hand on the girl, the heat warming it, as his other stroked his beard. Her breathing calmed, her chest no longer rising like the ocean waves during a storm. But her brows came together as her nose wrinkled, all the pain from the fight evident on her face.

The words left his mouth before he knew it. They formed a simple mantra, pulling small amounts of magic from the musty air. It was like the mist of the mountains, quiet and faint as it stirred the birds above. Gandalf's eyes closed as the power flowed from his hand and into the girl, acting like a conduit for the magic.

Radagast watched, a frown pulling at his champed lips, as the girl reacted to the magic. She groaned as the ancient words swirled around her. Her breathing labored for a few moments before it calmed once more. The sheets stopped wrestling as her legs stilled and the rest of her body relaxed. Thin eyebrows twitched and released, settling back into place as her nose flared and relaxed. After a few lines, the words faded and vanished, like the sun evaporating the morning mist.

"This should help with the fever," Gandalf sighed after a few breathes, retracting his hand tentatively. His eyes opened and stared at Radagast's stone figure. "But her body will still have to fight."

Radagast was silent, his weathered face emotionless as his hands began to worry the other again. His eyes though held it all, mirroring his chaotic thoughts aloud. The Grey Wizard noticed another question that wasn't yet uttered, the wrinkled fuzzy brown eyebrows hinting at its existence.

"Give her a while longer, she is still a child," Gandalf smiled, touched by his friend's concern for something other than a furry forest creature. The birds that sat in the high rafters all chattered, either to themselves or to the Brown Wizard, Gandalf didn't know. But Radagast's shoulders loosened, the stone expression crumbling under the relief.

Looking back at the girl beneath the sheets, her strange appearance tickled his curiosity. Her red wild hair spread out around her. The pale skin no longer shinned so brightly in the light, revealing dark speckles across her cheeks. Eyes rolled under the loose fluttering lashes, the nightmare passing with the worst of the fever.

Gandalf's curiosity continued to grow as the wound popped out at him. Why was someone so young so far from any settlement? Why did she have such an injury? His thoughts forced themselves aloud as they surfaced in his mind. "Radagast, where did you find this child of Men?"

"In the forest a few mornings ago," The wizard answered after a few moments of listening to the birds. Their excitement died down a little as his eyes shifted to Gandalf, "In a clearing with a creek."

The Grey Wizard nodded as his bones creaked, popping as he stood, his hand grabbing a hold of the bed post for support. His earlier questions were answered, but a few still remained that weighed on him. "Was she alone?"

Radagast nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sleeping child. "Except for the crows that kept her company."


	5. Chapter 4 Arachne

**AN: Sorry for the long wait, senior year and college applications are sucking all of my free time! I just want to point out that the previous few chapters were set quite a few years before the quest, but know the story is caught up to the actual story timeline. All reviews/follows/favorites are appreciated, thank you so much, they really make me smile! And I'd like to say thank you to **_Reincarnated_ _Poet _**for helping me with this chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

_**~Haru Eclipse**_

**Chapter 4 Arachne **

_Third Age: 2941_

B_right golden eyes stared out from the darkness. Fear made her cold as hot steam escaped its flared nostrils. Smoke hazed the gilt orbs, like a full moon on an eerie night._

_Ice crept into her joints as her fear grew. It kept her frozen, and out of site._

**_Ba-bump!_**

_The dragon hadn't noticed her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time before it found her. I must leave now!_

**_Ba-bump! Ba-bump!_**

_Sweat trailed down her face as her spit grew heavy in her mouth. Her Adam's apple was forced down as she swallowed. Slowly her foot moved. Quaking as her muscles strained, her foot hovered in the air. The floor beneath her was gone, opening to an endless abyss. She didn't fall through, it was only an illusion. When her foot came down, it landed on something solid. Tap._

_The eyes didn't move. They continued to stare above her as her body stiffened. A few moments trailed by and she released her breath. Again she moved, only this time she took a few more steps._

**_Tap. Tap. Crrrackkkk!_**

_The dragon's massive head turned in the direction of the sound. Its eyes searched the area below before settling on her. Beneath her right boot was a thin silver crack._

_She gasped as the crack continued to splinter, rippling out like a spider's web. A snarl brought her to look at the dragon. Its eyes flared, livid by her very presence. Too transfixed, she couldn't look away as the dragon's gaze captured her own._

_It continued to snarl, opening its large mouth. Yellowed teeth stood out from the black as something began to glow in the back of its throat. It burned brighter and brighter until it spilled over its tongue._

_Fire._

_She watched from the reflection in his eyes as a wave of flames washed over her. The air boiled and her skin burned. She began to scream. Then she fell._

Maeve woke just in time to grab the branch she'd been snoozing on before she plummeted to the ground. Bark bit into her skin as she stared down at the ground below. Gravity weighed down on her body more so than anyone else since she woke in this land, and if she didn't do something, her strength wouldn't last. The massive trunk was behind her, and she pushed against, trying to pull herself up.

She grunted, the hot summer heat swirling around her, sweat dripping down her neck. An aggravated cry sent the bird flying as he boot slipped. The ground beneath her opened its arms. 'No!"

Grinding her teeth, she pulled again, shoulders crying out at the strain. Finally, she heaved her chest against the branch, pushing off against the trunk until both feet were on opposite sides of the branch once again.

Adrenaline pulsed with her erratic heart. Her muscles relaxed, sore and twitching from the effort. The sun penetrated the canopy above her making her sweat-slicked skin glow. Stray red hairs stuck to her face as she sat there, the breeze carrying her braids with it.

Like a rain sodden cloud, exhaustion fell over her as she unwound. Adrenaline fell away, leaving a headache as it receded. Her fingers loosened their hold on the tree, color returning to her hands as she still held a firm grip.

Slowly her head fell back, eyes closed. The sun's light warmed her face. Her teeth retracted from her bleeding lip. The trees around her swayed with the breeze, their leaves shifting together in a lulling dance. Cicadas buzzed to the pulse of the forest, drowning out even the loudest of birds and the familiar snarling in her mind.

Maeve's heart was the first to sync with the steady pulse. The breeze played with her hair, _clinking_ her beads together as her lungs soon followed the rhythm. Then her body relaxed, the exhaustion fading away like the morning mist at first light.

Listening for a few breaths more to the peace of the ancient wood, she slowly began to open her eyes. Looking around the woman guessed it to be mid-afternoon.

'_I should ge' back ta work.'_ Maeve thought as she slowly pushed herself up. Lifting her leg up, she rested it under her. Reaching her right hand up toward a high branch, she tried to grasp it as her other held firmly to the tree. Using her knee, she lifted herself high enough to grab the thin but sturdy branch above her. Nails dug into her leather palm as she slowly lifted herself up onto the top of the branch. Like a lifeline, she used the higher branch for support as she shimmied her way to the trunk. Her feet took one tentative step at a time as she focused on them, trying to ignore the yawning ground beneath.

Finally she reached the massive center, and hugged it like a lover going off to war. Taking a deep breath, she carefully made her way to the other side. Harmless moss draped the tree and tickled her bare skin as she made her way around. Perspiration began to form again as the heat rose ever higher.

On the other side was the way Maeve had climbed up the old tree, and so it would be the way down as well. A rotted branch cracked and snapped off as she stepped onto a sturdier one. She watched as it smacked against the lower branches as it fell, before slamming and splintering against the forest floor. She began to worry her sore lower lip again.

When she reached the other side she sighed. Where she stood, the tree sported many more limbs than the other side. Some of the branches were fairly new, easier to bend without snapping, but there were many thicker ones that made climbing easier.

Slowly Maeve began to shimmy her way down the tree. Branches groaned and creaked as she went. Her sharp eyes watched the ground beneath her, searching for any signs of danger, as her ears remained open. Bark scratched at her bare skin as the heat swarmed around her, the breeze shifting through the leaves.

A few times her hands slipped, the sweat slick against the wood, but she quickly caught herself each time. The ground beneath her grew bigger and more vided as she came down. Rabbits scurried into bushes as squirrels fled away from her when she got too close.

Finally she reached the bottom branch, still a few feet up in the air. On the branch above her bow and quiver swung in the wind. Grabbing her quiver first, she carefully secured it to her back. Then she grabbed her dark wooden bow and searched the area. A few minutes passed and nothing stirred, no hell hogs tearing from the bushes.

"I guess she's gone." Maeve sighed as the forest revealed no signs of the angry mother boar that chased her up the tree just a few yours before.

The grass crunched beneath her boots as she landed, knees bent and popping as she stood. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Maeve reached into her pocket as she began moving forward. Coarse parchment rubbed against her fingertips as she withdrew the note. Black scribbled words ran across the yellowed, bumpy surface, listing different plants and herbs.

Radagast's writing was illegible at best, but after the many decades Maeve grew accustomed to his chicken scratch. He had sent her out earlier with the list, asking her to collect some herbs that were in season now. The list was long, most listed were medicinal while others were poisons that could be added to medicine in small doses. And almost all were poisonous to human life.

Opening her small bag, Maeve shifted through the contents, counting all the plants she had gathered before her nap. Sighing, she found that all the samples were still there. Flipping the flap closed, she took the list and studied the names that were left.

Sweat dripped off some of the hair that hung in her face as the birds flew around her. Babies chirped for food in their nests, their screeching grating her ears as they all cried out. The pain in her head throbbed in her temples as the screeching continued. Eyes roaming down the list, she finally found her next target.

"I'll jus' get some Athelas." Maeve decided as she placed the list back into her pocket. She travelled quickly through the old forest as she searched the ground. Curled brown leaves crunched beneath her feet.

Trees stood tall and imposing, covered in moss and thick vines. They weren't as densely packed here as other, younger parts of the forest were. Their broad leaves blocked out enough of the sun's light to eliminate most of the ground cover, but a few bushes grew in clusters where the light was the brightest.

Maeve vaulted over an old root that stuck up high from the ground. A wide grin reached her eyes as she explored the forest. She had realized long ago that this place wasn't her home, but the forest had grown on her.

Sprinting now, she raced toward a vine that hung from a lone tree. Leaping for it, she grabbed the sticky surface and soared through the air. The cicadas thrummed around her, the buzz reverberating through her body as she travelled deeper into the forest. Above she could hear the familiar cry of her feathered friend.

The vine grew taut as she came to the end. Letting go, Maeve flew forward, her arms stretched out like a bird as her beads rattled together. All her worries washed away, the exhilaration wiping her most recent frights away. With a shout as she landed, her momentum carried her forward. The green forest began to blur as she sprinted, jumping over unearthed roots and swinging from low-hanging vines.

Huffing she began to slow her pace. Her lungs stretched to their limits as they pulled as much air as they could from the heavy air. Sweat pooled in the folds of her cloths, causing them to cling to her pale skin.

Never completely stopping, Maeve walked on as she regained her breath. The sunlight made the entire area look golden-green as it filtered through the thin leaves above. The buzzing was like a faint whisper on the lips of a dead man; and over the buzz, the bubbling creek filled the void.

As she followed the sound of running water briers snagged at her pants and scrapped against her bare arms, but she paid them no mind as she swatted them away. There were more bushes here as the forest opened up. Flowers accented the air as they sprung from the rich dirt and dotted dark shrubs. Twigs snapped beneath her boots as Maeve picked her way through the area, occasionally scaring birds into the air. Soon the rushing water filled the air, drowning out any other noise.

Soft dirt slowly turned to pebbles as Maeve stepped out of the forest and onto the bank. The water caught and reflected the light at odd angles as it ran over rocks. She knew that if any Athelas was in the area it would be at the edge of the forest, but she went to the river first.

Kneeling at the edge of the river, water lapping at the souls of her boots, she smiled as she gazed at her reflection. The image shifted in the water as it rushed by, but she could see the dark smudges that stuck out from her pale complexion. Displacing the image, she dipped her soiled hands into the cool water and cleaned them off.

Closing her eyes, the water splashed against her heated skin. The coldness shocked her senses as it made contact with her face. The dirt washed away with the sweat as the few last scoops ran down her cheeks, and stuck he bangs to her brow.

Sitting back on her heels, Maeve sighed as she opened her eyes. The sun warmed her face again. Nothing but the river's movement filled the air, even the trees settled with the breeze. Inhaling deeply, Maeve could smell the subtle rich fragrances from the nearby flowers. With another breath she could even smell the fresh scent of mint.

Rising to her feet, Maeve strode to the thinnest part of the river. Cold liquid splashed against her legs as it rose halfway up her calf. She didn't wade through it long before she reached the other side. Pebbles shifted around her feet as they sunk into the mud with each step. The forest on this side was darker, the trees too close. Something disturbed the air and hid within the shadows.

Above her a bird cried loudly, grabbing her eyes from the trees. Looking up, Maeve could see the underbelly of a large predatory bird as it circled the area. It cried out again, familiar and pressing for her attention. Groaning, Maeve yelled up to the bird, "Oi! Hol'on!"

Walking to the forest's edge, Maeve bent down again and inhaled deeply. The cooling scent of Kingsfoil tickled her nose, overpowering the flowers. Searching the ground, her hands roamed the surface as her sharp eyes focused, looking for the plant's tiny leaves.

Pebbles clattered with each move as she sniffed the air following the cool, sweet scent. With each inhale her headache began to fade, until it completely dissipated, but her heart clenched tighter. It reminded Maeve of the flowers her mother once loved, that always bloomed in the season of her birth.

Finally, she found a cluster of the plant around a small bush. The shrub's leaves were a sickly yellow with brown spots scattered about the surface and the edges curled in. Tentatively, her hand reached out as her brows scrunched together. Fingertips brushed the sticky surface before she snapped the leaf from the stem. Slowly she moved it under her nose, clear brown liquid oozing where she tore the leaf off. Sniffing, her nose became flooded with rancorous rot.

Maeve quickly threw away the leaf, her nose burning from the smell. Looking for the Kingsfoils she snatched a sample from the others. Her eyes widened as she saw the once deep green leaves beginning to yellow, spots dotting most of the leaves. The tiny blooms that were the purest of white, now blackened and shriveled.

Above her, another cry split the air. Maeve worried her lower lip between her teeth as she stood, her knees popping as she did. Her eyes frantically searched the darkening forest as her senses flared.

It was too quiet.

No birds fluttered about. Bushes didn't rattle from the wildlife that called them home. The trees were silent, their squirrels missing and their nuts abandoned. The sweet smell of flowers gave way to rot and decay.

Stepping into the forest, Maeve froze. A shiver ran up her spine as her foot hovered above the ground. She shook her head as she continued forward. Each step was measured as she searched the trees.

Nothing moved.

Even the pulse of the forest was deadly silent.

Another screech sounded, this time closer than before. Turning around, Maeve saw a white streak race towards her. Holding up her right arm just in time, the beautiful bird landed on her leather brace, claws biting into the material.

"Shhh…" Maeve soothed, her bare hand smoothing the black speckled feathers. The bird kept her feet moving as it screeched at Maeve, her body stiff with panic and her wings poised, ready to take off again. Maeve frowned as her companion shifted uncomfortably on her arm. "What's wrong, Sorcha?"

The bird cried out just as a loud hiss filled the air. Maeve froze, every muscle in her body as rigid as wood. All heat faded as the area became too dark. The forest suddenly came alive as creatures screamed in fear. All life tried fleeing from the woods.

Maeve watched as large dark forms scuttled rapidly towards them and her instincts shrieked for her to run. Throwing her arm up, she launched Sorcha into the air. "_Go_! Find Aiwendil!"

Sorcha flew off as Maeve began making her way to the river. Behind her the hissing grew closer, pushing her to go faster.

Grabbing her bow, she held it firmly in her hand. Once she crossed the river, Maeve looked back. Snatching an arrow from her quiver, she notched it into the bow.

The menace broke through the bushes then and Maeve gasped. A large black spider stopped at the edge of the river. Its hairy legs kicked into the air as it hissed. Behind it several more began to appear.

'_Wha' sort of monster is that?'_

The spider noticed her then, its front legs rearing up in a challenge. Hissing it started towards the river. Pulling the arrow to her cheek, Maeve aimed. The spider screeched and withered as the arrow stuck into its large head. The others behind it hissed and moved forward.

There were too many for her. She had to run.

So she did.

Turning away, she raced into the forest. The darkness chased after her as the spiders crossed the water. Thick clouds covered the sky, darkening the trees around her.

Animals exploded from the underbrush. Birds flew into the air. Everything tried to escape the approaching evil.

Her blood sung in her ears as her vision tunneled. Vaulting over high roots, she landed and kept going. Briers snagged and ripped her skin. The darkness was gaining.

Creatures screamed behind her, right before they died. Webs shot past, sticking to trees, trapping rodents.

Air rushed from her lungs, as they stretched.

In the shadows, a dragon danced in and out of sight. Her fear lodged in her throat.

A scream broke through the air.

Maeve tripped, rolling forward as she fell. A vine wrapped around her ankle. Thorns dug into her boots.

The spiders drew closer, killing everything they could. Plants withered and died as they passed. Sickness was spreading.

She hurried for the knife in her boot. Hands ripped it from the holster and sliced the vine. Her foot was free and the spiders came closer. Knife still in hand, she pushed off the moist dirt and continued running.

Rabbits and small creatures ran around her feet. Squirrels flew through the branches. Birds vanished into the sky as the spiders raced after them.

The dragon roared and Maeve screamed. Red danced across her vision, like a river of flames. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pushed it away.

'_Not now, please not now!'_ She begged her mind. She couldn't afford her sickness to act. It would be the death of her.

Smoke and ash and death burned her nose. Screams tore through her ears. But she kept forward.

Maeve had to reach the wizard.

She had to get to safety.

Branches smacked her limbs as she ran past. Roots snuck out to trip her. Briers reached with greedy hand for her skin, wanting her blood.

Adrenaline seared through her veins. Her heart hammered in her head. Imaginary laughter darkened the air. All chaos erupted behind her as her feet led her home.

Then the woods opened up. A lone tree stood in the enclosure. A familiar house greeted her and called her forward.

Panting hard, her lungs ready to burst. Her legs drove her forward, her arms pumping faster.

Forcing the door open she ran into the house. The wizard seemed unaffected by her appearance. He was too focused on the hedgehog that lay limp on a table.

Maeve could hear the hissing and rumble of the dragon. "_Aiwendil!_"

Radagast stared at her then, his expression serious as her took in her labored, fearful form. The spiders began to climb the house. There was no way out, they were surrounded.

"Aiwendil! Wha's going on?" Maeve shouted as she moved a table in front of the door, a spider already trying to get through. Sorcha screeched as Maeve slammed the door against it.

His eyes widened as everything fell into place. Hairy eyebrows disappeared beneath his hat as his voice darkened, "This is a dark and powerful witchcraft."

"Wha'r we gonna do?" Maeve demanded as she readied her bow. The large spiders crawled on top of the house, trying to force their way in. Sorcha flapped her wings, unable to help her companion this time.

Grabbing Sebastian from the table and his staff, Radagast went to the middle of the room. Maeve followed as he slid down to the floor, leaning against the ancient tree trunk. Above, a spider broke some of the boards, its legs trying to make the hole bigger.

Notching an arrow, Maeve aimed. Pulling the string back, the fledge brushing her cheek; she released the arrow into the spider's abdomen. It screeched and fell away, only to be replaced by another.

She readied another arrow as Radagast began a chant.

The words were ancient, foreign and magical. The room began to blacken as more spiders surrounded them. Maeve shot one after the other, her arrows dwindling as she tried to protect them.

The air began to tingle with magic, growing heavy. A shiver ran through Maeve as the familiar sensation passed her. The animals that lived in the tree scurried to the wizard, hiding beneath his robes.

Sorcha's wings flapped as the magic grew.

Another spider fell. Maeve struggled to breathe as the air was laden with magic.

The chanting grew louder and louder. The words a mantra that put the spiders into a frenzy.

Maeve reached back for another arrow. But she found nothing, her quiver was empty. And more spiders swarmed them.

"_Aiwendil!_"

Then the words stopped. And everything grew quiet.

Behind her Maeve heard something hiccup. Turning around she found Sebastian, the hedgehog twitching in Radagast's arms. The wizard's face was lit with surprise, his wrinkles stretching up as his eyes widened and his ears perked.

Sorcha screeched as the spiders left. The room began to lighten again as they crawled off, no longer trying to get in. Maeve's eyes met Radagast's before she rushed to the door.

The mice ran back to the corners as Radagast followed her. Together they moved the table away from the door before opening it. They watched as the spiders retreated back into the woods, the darkness following after them.

The wizard leaned on his staff as he walked out the door. Sorcha followed after him as Maeve refilled her quiver, soon running out to catch them. The forest was still, most of the birds too frightened to return.

"Wha' were those things, Aiwendil?"She demanded. Her eyes shifted around the area, making sure all the spiders were gone. The sun shone brightly through the leaves again, the forest a healthy green once more. A few moments ticked by before the wizard answered.

"Spiders, _big_ spiders." He answered, his knuckles whitened as he held his staff. A frown pulled at his lips, "But where did they come from?"

Sorcha screeched as she flew above Maeve, her white wings glowing in the light. Radagast turned to the bird as he listened to her report. Maeve stretched out her arm, offering the perch to her companion. As she landed, a smaller bird appeared and hovered about the wizard's head.

"What?" Radagast questioned. The bird chirped more, sounding frantic as it spoke. His eyes widened further as the bird's noises told him everything he needed to know. "Show me!"

Maeve learned long ago that the wizard could speak with the birds. It was bizarre at first, but over time she grew use to it and even learned a few things herself. As Radagast lifted his hat and offered the nest on his head Maeve asked, "Now wha'?"

"Now we ride!" He said as the bird settled into the nest. Placing his hat back on, he turned to her and grinned. "Come on, little rabbit!"


End file.
